


Jack

by petersnotkingyet



Series: Love is Blind (and so is Kenny) [8]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Blind Character, Blind!Kent, Blindness, College, Disabled Character, Drug Abuse, Epilepsy, Gen, M/M, Overdose, Seizures, Stimming, Swearing, Underage Drinking, service dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: Jack's overdose, the aftermath, and how Kent and Swoops met.





	Jack

“Zimms?” Kent said, knocking on the bathroom door.  “I know you’re in there, dude.”

No answer.  Kent knocked again, just in case someone other than Jack was in there, but there was still no response.

“Come on, Zimmermann.  We can leave if you want to.  This party’s shit anyways,” Kent said.  There was still no answer, so Kent twisted the knob and found it unlocked.

He’d expected Jack to yell at him for opening the door.  He didn’t though, and Kent faltered.  “Jack?” he said hesitantly, struck by the fear that Jack could have left without him hearing.  Kent took a few steps, checks hot.  Anxiety bubbled up in his gut.  He’d known Jack wasn’t crazy about parties, but he didn’t think Jack would leave him here.

Kent’s foot landed on something, and he went down hard, clipping the countertop with his jaw as he fell.  Gracie rushed in from the hall and moved to put herself between his head and the ground, but she stopped when she saw Kent wasn’t having a seizure.  Kent pushed himself into a crouch, and his stomach dropped when he realized what he’d fallen on. 

“Jack?” he said again, louder this time.  He could hear the panic in his own voice. 

His hands flew to confirm, fluttering desperately on the too familiar feel of Zimms’s favorite jacket, Zimms’s straight nose, Zimms’s rough hands.  There was something in one of his hands, and Kent pried it loose. It took him a few seconds to identify the item as a pill bottle, and when he did he shook it to hear how much was left.

“This should be nearly full, Zimms.  You picked it up last week; it should be full," Kent said.  He'd gone with Jack to the pharmacy that day so he could buy a new medical ID bracelet.  His old one had broken when he and Jack were roughhousing at the rink.  Bob had nearly caught them making out that day, and Jack had gotten mad when Kent laughed about it.

Jack didn’t answer, and Kent dropped the bottle.  He could hear the few remaining pills spill across the floor as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Jack took to many pills,” Kent blurted.  “I don’t-- I don’t know when.  I just found him.”

“What’s your location?”

“I don’t know.  Jack drove.  We’re at a party in…. in….”

“Can you go outside and look at a street sign?” the operator prompted.

“I’m _blind._ I can’t go outside and look at anything,” Kent snapped.  Gracie pressed against his side, trying to comfort him, and Kent finally remembered one of her commands he didn’t used often.  “Gracie, get help,” he said firmly.  “Get help.”

Kent could hear her nails on the tile as she scrambled into the other room where everyone else was.  She was already barking loudly, and Kent prayed she’d bring back someone sober.  Within seconds, Kent could hear her coming back, accompanied by another set of footsteps.

“Whoa, what happened?” the newcomer said.

“Take this,” Kent said, shoving his phone toward the voice.  “Tell them where we are.”

As soon as the phone was out of his hand, he turned back to Jack.  He wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay, but the words wouldn’t come out.  Instead, he fisted one hand in Jack’s sleeve and batted the other against his chest while he rocked.

The stranger gave Kent his phone back and went outside to direct the EMTs when they arrived.  In the other room, the party continued.  The sound of it—and the smell of the beer Jack must have washed the pills down with—made Kent want to be sick. 

“Fuck, Jack,” he finally gasped.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Again, Jack said nothing.  He didn’t move, he didn’t moan, he didn’t grimace.  Kent stayed perched by his head, occasionally holding one hand a few inches above Jack’s face so he could feel him exhaling.  When the ambulance came, Kent had to move into the hallway to make room.  He was shaking too much to stand, so he sat on the floor with his head between his knees.  Gracie leaned against him, and the pressure was grounding enough for him to tell the EMTs everything he knew—the name of Jack’s medicine, how long ago he’d disappeared into the bathroom, when he’d found him.

“That dog won’t fit in the bus,” one of the EMTs said to Kent while the other two pushed the stretcher—pushed Jack—out of the house.  “We’re going to Mercy General if you want to meet us there.”

“Okay,” Kent said, and the EMTs were gone. Kent turned to Gracie and said, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Gracie whined and pressed her nose against his leg.  She was nudging him toward the door, and Kent knew she wanted him to go home and calm down.  When he wouldn’t move, she settled for continuing to lean on him.

“I called you an Uber,” the stranger said.  Kent startled.  He hadn’t realized he unknown man had stuck around after he brought the EMTs in.

“Thanks,” Kent said.

The sound of the continuing party made the house too claustrophobic to stay in.  Kent went outside to sit on the steps and wait for his ride.  The stranger came with him, sitting quietly on Kent’s left.

“What’s your name?” Kent asked, desperate to distract himself.

“Adam,” the man said.

“I’m Kent.”

“Who was that guy in the bathroom?” Adam asked.  Kent swallowed hard.

“My best friend Jack,” Kent said. 

“I’m sorry,” Adam said, but the lump in Kent’s throat wouldn’t let him respond.

The Uber driver complained about having a dog in his car, but Kent ignored him.  Gracie laid across the seat quietly, her head in Kent’s lap, the whole way to the hospital.  Kent used the car ride to call Bob and Alicia and explain—rambling, panicked—what had happened.  When the Uber driver said they’d reached the hospital, Kent clipped the leash to Gracie vest and followed her to the door. 

* * *

 

“Honey, are you with me?”

Kent groaned.  He was on the ground, and Gracie was pressed flush against his side.  The pressure was nice, but he could already feel the pain settling into his muscles.  He squinted against the florescent lights.

“Yeah, there you are.”

“Alicia?” Kent mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Alicia said.  “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Where am I?” Kent said.

“Mercy General,” Alicia said.  Kent’s eyebrows furrowed.  “You weren’t admitted,” Alicia clarified.  “We’re in a private waiting room.  When Gracie indicated, you told a nurse you didn’t need to be admitted unless it lasted more than five minutes and asked for some space.”

“What was I…. Why was I here?”

“You came for Jack,” Alicia said.  Kent could hear the tension in her voice.  He shoved himself up into a sitting position despite his body’s protests.

“Jack,” Kent said, panicking again.

“Everything’s fine, honey” Alicia said.  Her voice was closer, like she’d crouched down.  “You woke up after the seizure, but I didn't expect you to remember any of that.  You slept a while.  Jack’s going to be okay.  He already woke up and everything.”

“Can I see him?”

She hesitated.  “It’s just family right now,” Alicia said, but Kent could hear something else in her voice.  “Your mom’s on the way to get you.”

“Okay,” Kent said.  “You can go back to Jack and Bob.  I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Alicia said.  “Your mom isn’t far out.  I can wait with you until she gets here.”

“I’m sure.”

Alicia didn’t say anything for a long moment, but there were no retreating footsteps so Kent knew she was still there.

“Are there chairs in here?” Kent asked.

“Yeah,” Alicia said.  “There’s a row against the wall about five feet to your left.”

Kent felt for it cautiously before lowering himself into the hard plastic chair.  Alicia stayed where she was for another moment, and then the row of chairs shifted as she sat down. 

“Kent,” she said carefully.  “I just want to make sure you know this wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have made him come with me to that party,” Kent said, shaking his head.

“You saved his life,” Alicia said.  “The doctor said that if you hadn’t found him when you did, it would have been too late for them to do anything.”

“I didn’t _find_ him,” Kent said.  “I fell on him.  I thought he was hiding out in the bathroom to get away from the party, and I went after him and I _fell on him_.”

“It’s not your fault, Kenny.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kent said.  It came out harsher than he’d meant it to, so he made an effort to soften his voice before he spoke again.  “You should go be with, Jack.”

Again, Alicia hesitated.  After a moment, Kent heard her move.  He thought she was leaving until two hands cupped his face.  They stayed frozen like that for several long seconds, like she wanted to hug him but was afraid what Kent’s reaction would be.  Alicia finally pressed a light kiss to the top of Kent’s head and then let go of his face.

“Thank you for saving my son, Kent,” Alicia said quietly.  “You’re always going to be a part of this family.  No matter what, understand?”

“Yeah,” Kent said.  “I understand.”

She went back upstairs to be with Jack and Bob.  Within twenty minutes, Kent’s mother had arrived with food for Gracie and a change of clothes for Kent.  She cried a little while she smoothed down his hair and examined the bruise on his cheek from where he’d fallen in the bathroom.  Jack’s parents must have told her what happened, but Kent couldn’t bring himself to talk about.  He pretended to sleep during the car ride home, but when they pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot, she sat and watched him for a while before shaking his shoulder.

Two days later, Bob called.  Kent scrambled to answer so fast he dropped his phone, and the screen shattered on the ground.  He’d done nothing but lie in bed for two days, waiting for Jack to text.

“Hello?” Kent said.

“Hey, Kent,” Bob Zimmermann said.  “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Kent said reflexively.  “How’s Jack?”

“He’s doing alright,” Bob said.  He sounded tired.  “He’s going to spend some time in a rehab facility, but the doctors don’t think there’s any long term damage.”

“Can I see him?” Kent asked.  Bob hesitated, and Kent’s heart sank.

“Jack doesn’t want to see anyone right now,” Bob said.  Kent swallowed hard.

“I understand,” he said.  Kent understood, _‘Jack doesn’t want to see you.’_ “Tell him I…”

 _Tell him I love him_.  Tell him I’m sorry.  Tell him I can’t sleep.  Tell him everything tastes like sand.  Tell him I don’t know what to do anymore.  Tell him I’m sorry.

“Tell him I’m think of him,” Kent said.

“I will,” Bob promised.  “I’ve got to go, Kent, but you take care of yourself.  I’ll check in later.”

“Okay,” Kent said.  “Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Kent let his shattered phone drop onto the bed.  His insides were so twisted up it hurt, and he batted his hands lightly against his chest to distract himself from the feeling. Gracie latched onto the movement and jumped onto the bed to lay across his legs.

“Thanks,” Kent said quietly, stroking her head.  “Thanks for getting help at the party.  You did really good.”

Kent traced one hand across her jaw and imagined she was smiling.

Kent’s mom let him get away with hiding in his room for a week.  At the end of that week, she and Kent’s sister came into his room with a stack of plastic tubs.  As soon as Kent knew what they’d brought, he knew what she was about to say.

“We need to start packing,” his mom declared.  “Move in day is in a week and a half, Kenny.”

That was sooner than he expected.  The days had all begun to meld together.  The only one that really stood out was the day of the NHL draft.  Kent hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch it.  Jack should have gone first, but instead it was some stranger.  That day, Kent had let his phone die so he wouldn’t have to see the articles pop up.

“Or we could pack for you,” Amy suggested.  Her tone was more conniving than helpful.  “I think college would be a good time to kick the snapback habit.”

“You try having cowlicks like these without hats,” Kent said.

“I wouldn’t have cowlicks like those, because I know how to brush my hair,” Amy retaliated.

“I said _packing_ not _bickering_ ,” their mom broke in.  “Amy, you volunteered to help.  I’m not forcing you.”

“Well, don’t tell him that,” Amy whined.  Kent smiled a little.  Amy was sixteen, but somethings hadn't changed since they were small.

They spread the packing out over the course of the week and a half.  Toiletries and medications were shoved in on top the day he left, and then the tubs  went in the back of the family SUV.  Kent let Amy call shotgun so he could ride in the back with Gracie’s head in his lap. 

Over the summer, they’d arranged several days with the university for Kent and Gracie to get familiar with the campus.  He’d already been in contact with his roommate, his professors, and the school’s disability services.  They’d done everything they could to prepare, but nothing had squashed the anxiety.  Logically, he knew every freshman arriving on campus felt the same way for different reasons, but it still didn’t make him feel any better.  His mom rambled while she drove, and Kent knew she was trying to distract him.  He couldn’t stop wondering what Jack was doing right now.

The first night was the worst.  Kent had expected to be homesick, but he wasn’t.  He just kept thinking about Jack.  Jack, who should have been in the NHL instead of rehab right now.  When Kent had imagined starting college, he had pictured himself texting Jack about his roommate and his classes and how he’d found the perfect path for walking Gracie in the afternoons.  He’d imagined Jack taking advantage of his new NHL money to come visit as often as he could get away.  He hadn’t expected they would be three weeks into a streak of ignored texts to Jack.

On Kent’s nineteenth day of college, he texted Jack _I miss you_ at 9:57 PM.  At 9:58, he followed up with _It’s okay if you don’t miss me._ Five minutes later, he added _Did you ever actually love me?_   Jack hadn’t responded to him a month, so Kent figured his number had been blocked.  He didn’t actually expect Jack to read them.

At 9:43 the next night, Jack responded _No, I don’t think I did._

As soon as Kent heard the message, his insides went cold.  There was a sharp pain in his chest, and he curled his shoulders in like he could stretch it away.  He couldn’t process what Jack has said.  He played the message again.  He played his own message back, then Jack’s again.  He was about to play it a third time when his roommate’s voice startled him out of his trance.

“Jesus Christ, that’s fucking harsh.”

“Yeah, Jack wasn’t ever really big on feelings,” Kent said when he’d recovered from the surprise.  “We never talked about it, but I thought…”

“He's an ex?” Jeff asked.

“Ex something,” Kent mumbled.  He could hear Jeff moving around on his side of the room. 

“Come on,” Jeff said.  “Let’s go get your mind off of it.”

“I can’t drink,” Kent said reflexively.  “I’m on medication.”

“I know you’re on medication,” Jeff said.  “Your desk looks like my grandpa decided to start dealing.  And drinking isn’t what I had in mind.”

“I’m down to hang out, but can we do it tomorrow?” Kent said.  “I just… I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay,” Jeff said.  His voice sounded like he was shrugging.  “Suit yourself, but I know a good place to push someone down a hill in a grocery cart.”

“Wait,” Kent said.  “You were going to push me down a hill in a shopping cart?”

“You could have pushed me if you wanted to,” Jeff said.

Kent surprised himself by laughing.  “I’m down for that,” Kent said.

“Tomorrow then,” Jeff said.  He sounded like he was smiling.

The pain in Kent’s chest was still there when he climbed into bed.  The heartsick feeling had changed though.  Gone was the full body ache that had been present since he found Jack on the bathroom floor.  It had been chiseled down to a sharp point.  Kent had spent so much time burying himself in guilt that he was surprised to realize he was angry with Jack.  Who was Jack Zimmermann to make him feel like complete shit for weeks?  And why the hell was Kent letting him?

The sharp anger drove Kent for several weeks.  He pushed Jeff down a hill a grocery cart.  He let Jeff push him.  He made out with his lab partner.  He aced his classes, and he went to basketball games with Jeff and his friends.  At some point, Jeff’s friends became his friends too.

When the anger faded and the ache reappeared, Kent told Jeff not to let him text Jack.  He still did sometimes, but it was usually just _I miss you_ and then he would turn his phone off.  Kent slept more when it got like that, but he made himself keep up his social life.  When Bob Zimmermann called, he could answer without spending the rest of the day in bed.

“You’re my best friend,” Jeff slurred one night in January when Kent was pulling him out of snowbank he’d sat down in on their way back to the dorm from a party.

“You’re drunk,” Kent said, laughing as he brushed snow off of his roommate.

“And you’re my best friend,” Jeff reaffirmed.  “I got the best roommate, dude.  Chad’s roommate fucking sucks.  He has BO.  You have a _dog_.”

“You’re my best friend too,” Kent said.  Jeff cheered out loud, and Kent hurried to shush him.  “People are sleeping, dude.”

“We’re in college,” Jeff said, like that explained everything.  “And you know who isn’t in college?  Your shitty ex.”

“No, he’s not,” Kent said.  He didn’t say that Jack was couching a peewee team in Montreal right now.  He probably shouldn’t care enough to know that. 

“He’s off being rich,” Jeff said, “and a dick.  Fuck Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent stopped walking.  “I never said it was Jack Zimmermann.”

“I’m a fucking smart dude, Kenny,” Jeff said.  “Hockey player or not, I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“We’re going to talk about this when you’re sober,” Kent said as he swiped his ID to get them into the dorm.

“I can take him,” Jeff promised.

“You need to take Advil,” Kent said.  “And a nap.”

“Alright, Kenny,” Jeff said.  Kent unlocked their door, and Jeff climbed into bed fully dressed.  Kent laughed at him as he unclipped Gracie’s lead and refilled her food bowl.

“You’re going to be so hungover in the morning,” Kent said.

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jeff.”


End file.
